Big Brother
by crazy-anonymous
Summary: The quiet “Shh”’s that lightly slipped from the man’s pale lips could hardly be heard over the gurgled noise that retched itself from Alfred’s torn throat as he desperately pushed against the man, gripping at his arms.


Alfred's dim blue eyes lulled to the back of his head as he felt another wave of nausea envelope his sweaty body while the twitching and shaking started again. The couch gave a moan of protest as Alfred curled up on himself pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms over his stomach as if to keep his insides from spilling out. Sweat soaked through what little bit of clothing he had on as blossoming red sores and bruises formed across his body. Alfred held to himself tighter trying to stop the convulsions that shook his body. His face pinched into a frown as his eyebrows furrowed and bit his lip in an attempt to ignore the pain that racked his body and made every inch of him ache. Alfred twisted himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling, cutting through the shroud of darkness that blanketed the entire house.

Hot tears pooled and brimmed, prickling his blood-shot eyes and blurring his already obscure vision while his mind spun in circles. In some minutes the blonde nation had nearly lulled back into fitful sleep when a sudden freezing chill had rolled and settled over his body, pulling him back to hazy consciousness.

The pain had ebbed away a bit and the aches were now just a dull pain tugging at his skin. Alfred's fuzzy mind snapped to attention when a loud noise had sounded from off in the hallway. "Arthur?" Alfred rasped coming out as a strangled croak more than anything. Inwardly Alfred scoffed at himself for even entertaining such a thought. Arthur? Who was he kidding? Arthur was gone, and no amount of wishful thinking or desperate prayer could bring him back.

Alfred tried blinking away the burning tears and swallowing the lump in his throat, his eyes still fixed in the direction of the dark hallway. Instinctively, Alfred reached for Texas but stopped short remembering that they had long been broken and lost. Slowly, the young nation unsteadily pulled himself to his feet and stumbled into the hall, one hand firmly clamped to his stomach, the other gripping the wall to steady himself.

Alfred screwed up his eyes to see if anything was out of place, but was met with the usual wooden floor and white walls. Turning back around, the young, blonde nation started back into the living room, but was stopped as he felt that similar freezing air clamp around his throat and his stomach flip flop. Hurriedly, the American ran into the bathroom falling to his knees in front of the porcelain toilet and heaved, his throat seeming to tear even more. He stayed slumped over the toilet, his back arched uncomfortably waiting just in case his stomach decided to protest any sort of movement again. And once more, that chill lingered over him, it was like winter had wrapped him in a cool embrace, and fingers - like ice - held to his arms, stroking him and leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. A strange weight pressed against his back and on top of his shoulder, and then, quieter than a whisper, he heard it.

"Alfred."

"Huh?!" Alfred croaked through his inflamed throat, whipping his head around so fast a new wave of nausea hit him forcing him to turn his attention back to the toilet and retch again. It was some minutes before Alfred could drag himself away from the toilet and stumble into the hallway. The blonde nation squeezed his eyes shut trying to forget about everything while his hand traced over the wall.

"Alfred." The American's eyes snapped wide open revealing a man leaning against the wall, his arms and legs crossed over each other while staring directly at Alfred. The freezing air hit him like a brick wall and clamped around his body sending a chill down his spine and making his hairs stand on end. Horrified, Alfred's eyes traced over the man taking in his features. Blue orbs moving from the man's trim, black hair and falling to his pitch-black eyes. It was like ink had been poured into his eyes and had never been washed out, staining even the white of his eyes a dark black. Perhaps most striking – and most stomach churning – was the fact that they shared the exact same face. From forehead to jaw line to cheekbone, it was all the same, the only notable difference that could be made was the two scars that rested on the dark haired man's face, one stretching from the left corner of his mouth nearing his cheekbone, and the other, a diagonal tear from just above his right eyebrow to just below his eye.

Alfred's own dim orbs passed over from each feature to the next until finally stopping to look back into the man's ink-black eyes. It was like staring into a black hole while it sucked you into a dark abyss, however, Alfred couldn't seem to tear his eyes away, the horror and confusion visibly etched on his face.

"What's with that look, Alfred? Are the scars really that bad?" A vicious grin broke across the man's face as he used a finger to trace the white scar from his mouth to his cheek and once over.

"Wha-who-" Alfred stumbled over the words rolling off his tongue, his mind spinning in circles and his mouth too slow to keep up.

"Ah, come now Alfred, don't play dumb, you know _exactly_ who – and _what_ – I am." The man cooed, his smile never faltering.

In that moment a searing pain ripped through Alfred's body and across his side causing his legs to buckle under and fall to the cold wooden floor. The young nation held his side where it felt like the pain had torn him in half. The black haired man chuckled and moved to kneel down next to Alfred while uncrossing his arms and offering a hand. "Shall Big Brother lend you a hand?" The man said, a grin still tugging at his lips.

"I don't…need it." Alfred responded with a groan in between deep breaths and slapped the man's hand away, still clutching his side and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Well, it certainly doesn't look that way. Besides," The man said snaking an arm around the crumpled blonde on the floor and hoisting him up. "When _don't_ you need me these days?" Instinctively, Alfred recoiled from the man's icy touch, but lacked the strength to move on his own until he was settled on the couch, the dark haired man sitting himself just across on the wooden-framed, glass coffee table.

Delving into his black leather jacket, the man proceeded to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a small, metal lighter with the initials "B.B." on one side and a dollar sign on the other. Pinching the butt of the cigarette between his pale and cracking lips, the man brought the lighter to his face and strummed his thumb against the gear and instantly a small fire crackled from the small tin. The hissing red flame lit the man's face staining it a sunset-orange as Alfred stared, watching the way the shadows danced across the mangled, yet still handsome face as he lit his cigarette. Ink-black orbs flicked upward and locked with dull blue just before the light went out, smothering the man's ashen, white face in darkness yet again.

The dark haired man took the cigarette between his gloved fingers and exhaled, blowing smoke from his mouth and into Alfred's face. The young nation hadn't the mind to turn away, letting the blue tinged, spiraling smoke filter through his nostrils and into his tired lungs. The man's eyes slowly traveled from the American's face to the unbuttoned, sweat-soaked dress shirt that clung to his skin, and then to the glistening metal cross that hung from the blonde's neck and onto his bare chest. Taking a long drag from the cigarette, the man leaned forward picking the gleaming cross from Alfred's chest and rubbed it between his fingers. The man's face contorted into a frown, his brows knitting together and his eyes shining with contempt as he clicked his tongue in distaste while still fumbling with the small necklace between his fingers. "You know what I think about this sort of thing." The man said flatly, fixing his eyes back up at Alfred. "As a matter of fact, you know what I think about a lot of this stuff in here." He continued, turning his head in regard to the many guns that littered the dark room and hung from the walls.

Alfred's face flickered with anger, his lip curling into a sneer as he pushed the hand away. "I don't _care_ what you think." Alfred spat through gritted teeth. "It's my ri-" Ear-splitting laughter pierced the otherwise silent room cutting Alfred off.

"Your _what_?! '_Right_'?!" The man's shrill laughter still rolling from his mouth and bubbling from his stomach as he pinched Alfred's face between his gloved fingers. "Your _freedom_? Don't be silly, that's all but been sold out. Soon enough such a right won't even _exist_. Besides, whatever would you need a gun _for_?"

"It's a constitutional _right_, you _can't_-"

"Ah yes, the constitution, the _heart_ of America." The man said as he relinquished hold of Alfred's face. Bringing his gloved hand to his mouth, the man bit the leather fabric of the glove and slowly pulled it off his hand. The smell of rotting flesh came rolling off the ungloved hand and infiltrated Alfred's nostrils, churning his stomach and making it flip again while his eyes burned and watered. The man's lips formed a thin line, his fingers trailing down Alfred's neck to rest on his chest right above his racing heart. "America, land of the free…land of the complacent, the apathetic, the _dependent_. Just look at yourself America, look at how far you've _fallen_. What could you _possibly_ do to stop me? The constitution," The man continued, digging his fingers into Alfred's flesh eliciting a hiss of pain from the blonde American. "is but a worn, and shredded piece of parchment, and it's thanks to your people, your _precious_ Americans, that I've been able to grow so large." Small rivulets of blood trickled from the crescent shaped cuts on Alfred's chest. The man pushed his fingers in further, his nails digging under the skin as blood bubbled out leaving a red trail down Alfred's chest and stomach.

Alfred grabbed the man's wrist but lacked the strength to pull him away and groaned from the pain and effort. "See Alfred? You're so torn up, inside and out, that you can barely move. Wouldn't it be easier," The dark haired man said, finally pulling his fingers out from Alfred's bleeding chest and instead twined his blood-soaked fingers through Alfred's hair, staining the ends a dark crimson. "if I – Big Brother – just did everything for you?" The man's face broke with disgust as he felt spit hit his cheek and roll down his face. His pallid lips curled back exposing his jagged teeth. "Of course not, you're _America_." The man spat venomously. "I'll give you this, you have a strong will. To hold on even when your people betray you, how..._pathetic_." The man seethed, grabbing a fist full of the blood-stained blonde locks and holding him by his short hairs. Violently, the dark haired man twisted Alfred's head back, and taking the cigarette between his fingers, pressed the glowing end to Alfred's temple. A hoarse cry grated through the young nation's throat as he cringed, desperately trying to pull his head away from the burning pain pressed to his temple, but was firmly held in place.

The man gave a few last twists before tossing the burnt out cigarette to the floor and pushed Alfred down onto his back, the blonde's body shaking in pain as his chest heaved up and down from his ragged breathing. "As…as long as there are still people…who defend the constitution…who believe in what's right…there will _never_ be complete government control. _We_ are a _Republic_." Alfred pushed out between his labored breath, glossy blue eyes glaring up at the other man.

"Well then," the man started, getting up from his seat on the coffee table and moving in to straddle the injured nation on the couch. "I'll just have to crush that Republic, won't I?" A wide grin plastered itself across the man's face and in a swift motion his cold fingers clamped around Alfred's neck and squeezed, nails digging into his flesh but not yet piercing the skin. Alfred's once strong arms felt like jelly against the weight and force pressing into him. The quiet "Shh"'s that lightly slipped from the man's pale lips could hardly be heard over the gurgled noise that retched itself from Alfred's torn throat as he desperately pushed against the man, gripping at his arms.

The walls around him started to blur and haze as if black shadows were eating away at the edges of the walls, and the man on top of him had turned into a simple, shadowy blur. No longer could Alfred see those ink-black eyes, nor the smiling cracked lips that framed his jagged, porcelain-white teeth. The young, blonde nation restlessly squirmed and kicked under the weight pinning him down. Alfred gave a broken gasp for air, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as the man tightened his vise on Alfred's throat, the smile on the man's face widened and threatened to spread over his entire face save for the smoldering, pitch-black pools that gleamed with sick satisfaction down at the strangling nation. Alfred couldn't feel his fingers that so frantically tried pushing the other man away - so much as he could feel his arms give way to the other man's smothering pressure and strength.

Alfred's grip on man's arm weakened and the restless squirming was slowly dying down. With one last nail-digging squeeze, all movement ceased and the last hopeless, gurgled breath had been pushed from the now lifeless American's lips.

The man slowly leaned in and held his ear to Alfred's still warm lips, but kept his fingers securely wrapped around America's neck just in case. A sense of gratified satisfaction twisted the man's smile even more, and it looked as though the scar from the edge of his mouth might split to allow for an even wider grin to contort what would have otherwise been a handsome face. The man leaned in further still, this time pressing his dried, pale lips to America's ear, and just barely, he uttered a low and soft whisper as if saying it any louder would somehow bring America back.

"The Republic is _dead_."

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**Author's notes:**_  
This._ What to say about this.  
Well, I'll start by saying that this is the darkest thing I've written (but then again I haven't really written all that much) and it will probably be the darkest thing I will _ever_ write, because frankly, the scariest, and most painful thing for me personally, is to see my country - America - fall. Sadly, it all seems to be happening before my eyes, and _oh_, how it eats at my heart.

So, all this was written because of the way I've been feeling (and of course, it's been one of my plot bunnies for awhile now what with all the gloom and doom that's been going on in my country these past few months) and I just couldn't put the idea down, so I decided I would write it out. I'm a bit unhappy with parts, but overall, I rather like this fic, so I really hope you do too, even if you don't have the same "_Woah, something's wrong here_" sort of feeling I do or even if you don't agree with me. ^^

Anyhow, the point of putting Arthur in there was to make Alfred feel worse, not only is he being killed from the inside, but his closest friend is also gone, presumably, by the exact same thing that killed Alfred.

Now, I can't say I know as much about the UK's government as I do America's, however, over the past few months I've been reading a bunch of stuff about the UK, I've been going to the Telegraph and reading a bunch of articles there, and from what I can tell and from what I've read, the UK is in a pretty piss-poor condition too. I've read stories about terrible things that have been happening more and more often in the UK, such as the this man getting beat for carrying the Union Jack and countless other stories.  
So, if there are any British reading this, my heart goes out to you and your country. I wish for the best and that your country can pull itself together after all the awful crap that's been happening. You guys have an amazing country, a freedom loving country, it's a beacon of light for many people out there, so _don't_ let it go, _don't_ let your country and your freedom slip between your fingers. It really breaks my heart to see what's been happening in your country, and I can't tell you how angry I get to see my president insult you all, our closest allies, and then extend an olive branch to those that hate America and want nothing to do with us. Please know that no matter how anti-British our president is, there are true Americans that will stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder with you - our brothers and sisters across the pond.  
So stand up for what's right, shout the truth and don't back down no matter what anyone calls you, no matter what they do to you, and no matter who you're against.

Anyhow, that pretty much sums it all up. So please, I hope you enjoy.  
By the way, extra cookies for those who guessed that the dark haired man - Big Brother - is the government. ;D


End file.
